


Greebo the Great and Powerful.

by millygal



Series: Angriest Ginger In History [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Sequel I Never Knew I Needed!, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 19:36:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14409153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Crowley decides he's had enough of being Greebo's latest chew toy.





	Greebo the Great and Powerful.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackrose_17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose_17/gifts).



> This, as is mentioned in the tags, is the sequel I didn't know I needed until someone helped my Muse into conjuring an image of Greebo kicking a Hellhound's ass. Cue my poor beta having to read yet another piece of crack from me, lol. I may have to keep that cat around, have him turn up in other fics, what do we all think? ;)
> 
> Also, I have gifted this to blackrose_17 as she is the reason I ended up writing Greebo in the first place ♥

The first time Crowley _pops_ in after the Winchesters have adopted the permanently angry Ginger Tom, he’s met with hisses and snarls worthy of a Tigress defending her cubs, and is chased up the stairs, narrowly avoiding having his meat suit aerated by a set of vicious looking uneven claws.

Running is very undignified when you can _zap_ places, however it’s extremely difficult to remember you have teleportation capabilities when faced with a creature you wouldn't want to cross in a darkened alley way.

The second time Crowley comes face to bent whiskers with Greebo, he has to beg Castiel to heal the three ugly looking gouges he ends up sporting across his left cheek.

_“BLOODY HELL what is wrong with that cat - ouch, Asstiel, careful - did you adopt it just because you knew it would want to chew on me?”_

_Sam does nothing to hide his mirth at Crowley’s ruined face, or the pain he’s feeling as Castiel attempts to heal a decades dead meat suit. “No, we didn’t, but I’m not going to lie - it is a distinct bonus. What the fuck are you doing here, anyway, haven’t we had our dose of douchebag this month?”_

The third time Crowley’s caught by the rampant rage filled feline - coming away with a huge hole in his best dress pants and a full jawed bite mark on his arse -the King of Hell decides to get his own back on the Cat from Hell, at any cost.

It may well be a little over the top, but he’s determined to end the feral creature that keeps trying to eat him alive - alive being a relative term - and goes back to his dungeon, taking with him a blanket that usually adorns the cat’s bed.

Walking into the kennels, picking out his most vicious Hellhound, apart from Juliet and Growley, because he quite values those pups and he thinks Greebo’s probably an animal that can hold his own, Crowley lays the blanket at the feet of Fluffy. The Hellhound’s deceptively sweet name always makes the King chuckle when it comes back covered in strings of flesh and blood smears.

“Now, Fluffy, catch the scent, that’s it, good boy. You’ll have to wait for him to leave the Bunker, understand?”

If anyone were to witness Crowley talking to his third favourite hound, they’d think he’d lost his marbles, but what most Demons and Humans don’t understand is that Hellhounds are highly intelligent creatures with a brilliant grasp of speech and instruction.

Fluffy’s answering howl tells Crowley he’s getting through to the beast, and is gratified to see him snatching the blanket from the floor and whipping it from side to side whilst gripped between it’s slavering jaws.

“Okay then. Don’t get caught, and don’t let those two mooks know you’re there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam’s catching a breath of fresh air, enjoying the easy breeze and soft sunset outside the Bunker, when Greebo comes sauntering out through the magical catflap.

They installed it after the cat started leaving lion sized claw marks on the inner doors and walls of their home, and realised if they wanted a Bunker to come back to, they’d have to give the creature a way out.

No one can see the catflap, it only responds to Greebo’s aura, and magically seals itself behind the feline until he nudges his snout against it to try and reenter the Bunker.

“Evening Greebs, catching a little sun, are we?”

Sam knows Dean would call him insane, on toast, but he swears the cat peers up at him and nods.

They’ve seen stranger things, and if anyone was going to end up with a slightly more interesting pet, it would be the Winchesters.

Smiling at his own silliness, Sam watches Greebo stalking a bluebottle as it flits along the ground.

Sam’s about to walk back inside and check on the dinner Dean’s supposedly meant to be preparing - although the younger Winchester knows his brother will _actually_ be watching the wrestling and burning the Mac’n’Cheese - when Greebo’s ears slam flat to his head and he begins to yowl at the top of his voice.

“What’s up, boy? Smell a fresh kill?”

Greebo lays down in the dirt and begins to crawl forwards, stalking something Sam clearly can’t see, all the while hissing and snarling.

Sam pulls his mobile out of his pocket and flicks through his call list until he lands on Dean’s name. Waiting for the phone to connect, Sam keeps a wary eye on the cat, which is now practically howling. “Dean, dude, get your butt up here. Greebo’s acting funny.”

Dean’s tinny voice comes through the phone speaker and Sam rolls his eyes.

“That cat was born funny, Sammy, what’s up with it now?”

“I don’t know but get up here, he looks like he’s caught the scent of a monster, the way he’s acting.”

The line goes dead and moments later Dean emerges into the late evening light. “Alright, what’s it up to now?”

Sam slaps Dean upside the head before pointing at the cat. “It is not an it, it is a _he_ , and just look.”

Dean spots Greebo, practically a smear on the ground because he’s so low to it, stalking forwards inch by inch, using his claws and paws to drag himself along the dirt and dust now clinging to his ratty fur. “Huh, okay that is weird.”

Dean scans the horizon and the road, but sees nothing. He’s about to tell Sam the cat’s clearly got a screw loose when he _feels_ a shift in the air and is taken off his feet by a heavy invisible force slamming into his chest.

It takes only seconds for Dean to realise what’s pinning him to the ground and is trying to scrabble out from beneath the Hellhound that’s huffing dead flesh breath into his face, when Sam shouts and launches himself at the mass of creature he can’t see.

“DEAN!”

Sam’s seconds from landing atop what he assumes is the creatures haunches when a ginger mass of snapping snarling fur whizzes by his face.

Only just managing to roll sideways in the air, Sam lands with a thud against the ground as Greebo grapples with the Hellhound still pinning Dean in place.

Claws flashing, eyes sparking, drool dripping from his exposed fangs, Greebo sinks his teeth into the Hellhounds back and yanks, ripping a chunk of matted black fur covered flesh from the thing’s shoulder.

As terrified as Sam is that he won’t be able to save Dean from something he can’t see, he is fascinated to note that the dead piece of Hellhound is now laying on the ground, completely visible, with cat shaped teeth marks running along the edges of it. “Holy shit!”

Dean continues to struggle beneath the weight pressing him into the ground when suddenly that weight is gone, and he can see Greebo hissing, spitting and ripping into the Hellhound now clearly flinging itself around in circles, trying to dislodge the cat clinging to it’s back.

It’s moments before Greebo is thrown through the air, a yowling ball of anger, and Sam and Dean can hear the thumping of a set of hound paws kicking up dust as it flees from the still snapping cat now leaning up on its hind legs and flicking it’s claws at thin air.

Dean lays on the ground, gasping for breath, staring at the cat which is now quite happily cleaning itself and purring, and wonders where Sam found the damned thing. “Sammy, where exactly did you get that cat?”

Sam’s eyes are so wide he worries they might fall out of his head, as he stares at Greebo, not a fresh scratch evident anywhere on his already scarred body. “He followed me from a kill site. Wouldn’t leave me alone, even tried crawling in the car when I opened the door. I figured he was just hungry - but - “

Dean manages to drag himself upright and scoots along the ground until he’s within touching distance of Greebo, and starts scratching the cat behind his left ear. “Well, whatever this thing is, it ain’t _just_ a cat.”

Sam’s amused to see Greebo pushing his head into Dean’s palm, and Dean not complaining about it, and thinks maybe he should give the cat an extra portion of meat for his dinner. “Clearly. Now, Hellhound, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Right!”

Sam snatches his phone from his pocket and begins furiously dialing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crowley’s picturing passing beneath the wall mounted head of the ginger monstrosity every day, and smiling like a fool, when in limps Fluffy at the very moment his phone starts vibrating in his pocket.

Peering at the caller ID, staring at his ripped to shreds Hellhound, Crowley rolls his eyes and clicks answer. “I can explain….”

Sam’s voice, shrill and ear splittingly loud, comes tumbling through the speakers and Crowley has to hold the phone away from his face. “Calm down, Moose. It was just a friendly reminder to that flea riddled pet of yours that - No - yes - okay fine but he - then you - OKAY OKAY stop shouting, you bloody drama queen. Dean’s not hurt, is he?”

Sam continues to rant down the phone as Crowley peruses Fluffy’s many injuries, and thinks perhaps he could use a creature like that in his garrison, despite wanting nothing more than to wear Greebo as a hollowed out hat. “No, exactly. Moose, MOOSE, calm down - I was wondering, could I borrow the cat - he could train my Hellhounds up a treat.”

Sam’s voice reaches new levels of irate and Crowley has to cover the phone speaker with his hand to try and block out the noise of Sam losing his shit. “I’ll take that as a no, then, shall I?”

Crowley hangs up whilst Sam’s still screaming into the phone and begins to check over Fluffy who’s whining and pawing at his scratched-to-pieces face. “Don’t worry boy, we’ll get him next time. Do you think it might be overkill if I send Ramsey?”

 

 

Fin.


End file.
